


Music Appreciation

by Melina



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), All Souls Trilogy - Deborah Harkness
Genre: Book 1: A Discovery of Witches, Classical Music, F/M, French bundling, Inspired by Music, Music, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, bundling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 18:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20729087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melina/pseuds/Melina
Summary: There was no help for her when he was feeling this mischievous, no mercy at all. Nothing to do but surrender and revel in his touch.





	Music Appreciation

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to hafital for the beta reading!

The house was nearly silent now, and Diana was enjoying the peace of a bath. She enjoyed the quiet, but she missed having everyone here together, the sense of fellowship and family. She smiled, remembering Sarah bustling about her stillroom, Em keeping everyone fed and happy, Miriam's quietly reassuring competence. She could almost hear Marcus laughing with Nate and Sophie, and Hamish and Matthew sparring over a chessboard.

But she was also grateful for a few days alone with Matthew, and the draw of him was far stronger than the comfort of the hot water and steam. She finished her bath and dressed. The strains of a classical piece floated up the stairs, and she came down to see Matthew lazing on the sofa, his eyes closed, listening.

She approached quietly. He knew perfectly well that she was there, but she still enjoyed "sneaking" up on him. He looked unusually relaxed, so inviting, and she couldn’t resist folding herself into his lap.

Without opening his eyes, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, then leaned back again to listen to the music coming from Sarah and Em's surprisingly excellent audio system. She settled into the embrace, the coolness of his skin pleasant against her body, still warm from the bath.

"What is this piece?" she asked.

"Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, opus 125, the final movement," he said, opening his eyes.

"Oh," she said, listening more closely. Despite not being a particular fan of Beethoven – she preferred Mozart or Bach – she was vaguely embarrassed that she hadn't immediately recognized the famous work. "19th century music is definitely not my field, but this doesn't sound like what I think of as Beethoven's Ninth."

"Mmm," he said, leaning into her hair and inhaling deeply. She smiled, knowing he loved the way she smelled after a hot bath. "You only think you've heard it. You know this part, yes?" he clicked the remote a few times, and she heard the familiar 'Ode to Joy' melody as the choir began singing in German.

She nodded. "Everyone knows this. It's the EU anthem, it's all over TV on New Year's Eve and at Hogmanay celebrations. There's a hymn set to the same melody."

"Yes," Matthew said, sliding a hand down her arm. "But that isn't the whole thing, it's the very end, the _molto vivace_. If you've only heard this part, you haven't really heard it." He clicked the remote again and set it aside. The piece started again. She listened, letting the music wash over her, conscious of Matthew watching her intently.

He smiled and kissed her again, longer this time. His hands wandered to the buttons on the oversized shirt she wore -- it was his, of course -- and began to slowly unbutton them.

"What Beethoven understood," he said, pulling the shirt open, "was the power of starting slowly." He kissed his way across her face before their lips met. "And building from there."

He shifted her off his lap, and she stretched on the long couch, Matthew settling between her thighs, his kisses working their way from her face to her neck and collarbone. The knowing grin on his face suffused her with warmth from head to toe.

"It starts with just a hint of what's to come," he said, his mouth making its way down her torso, ignoring her breasts. Her hands reached for him, but he tsked softly. She gave in -- for now -- and let her arms fall to her sides.

He continued kissing his way down her body, reaching her leggings. He teased the waistband with one finger, and paused again to listen. "Hear how it starts to pick up the pace here, adding new instruments, developing the melody?" he asked, his hand caressing her still-covered thighs, flitting lightly over her sex.

Oh, there was no help for her when he was feeling this mischievous, no mercy at all. Nothing to do but surrender and revel in his touch. Withdrawing his hand, he began kissing his way up her stomach, her chest and collarbone, before finally drawing her bra aside to drop the lightest of kisses onto each nipple, tracing them with his fingers.

Her heart started to beat loudly in her ears, and she knew that Matthew could hear it, too. "Now you can hear the melody clearly, almost in its full presentation, but not quite." His hand finally slipped past her waistband, his thumb just barely brushing where she wanted it most, once, twice. The music continued to build, becoming more intense, the tempo increasing. His fingers teased lower, and she arched her back, trying to draw him where she wanted him. His hand slipped away, and he looked at her with what could have been regret, if she didn't know what a teasing, merciless bastard....

Beethoven's piece had gone silent. "Just when you think you've reached the high point, the music pauses, goes completely quiet," he said, his fingertips glancing across the space between her breasts. He touched her so lightly -- much too lightly. The music started again, very softly, and she thought this was what she might have heard when she came downstairs; it was a different melody.

"Then, you see," he said, sounding every bit the Oxford fellow, "He starts again." He peppered light, barely there kisses across her cheeks, eyelids, and nose, before his lips found hers again, but it was a sweet kiss, almost chaste. "This time, he's considering and rejecting the themes he established earlier in the symphony. They just aren't quite right, you see."

She didn't see, didn't care. His kisses, his touch, were just enough to stimulate, to arouse, but far from enough to satisfy. Again he kissed down her neck, across the top of her breasts. "And then a single voice, asking others to join in." But Matthew's voice, the rich, low sound of it, was the only voice she cared to pay attention to. His mouth found hers, opening for a truly passionate kiss. She sighed, wanting more, to move, to arch into him, but his hand was on her hip, keeping her still. 

"And they do," he said, as other parts of the choir joined the lone voice. His lips moved down her neck, to the spot behind her ear that he knew drove her mad. He lifted his head, meeting her eyes. "And then we start to truly build to the real... peak."

Distantly, she heard the choir singing to the familiar melody; it didn't matter, and she tuned it out. All that mattered was his mouth and hands, the weight of his body against hers, the love and desire in every touch, every kiss. This time, his mouth wasn't light or fluttering; it was demanding, leaving tiny marks as he worked his way down her body. A groan slipped out of her, and he smiled from between her thighs. He pulled her leggings and underwear down swiftly, holding her gaze with a wicked expression until her head fell back onto the cushion and her eyes dropped closed.

"Oh, yes, please," she sighed as his mouth sank down on her, as his fingers slipped inside. Now that he had her trembling, he gave her what she wanted, needed; his hands and mouth knew just where to touch, how to move. She was breathless, her heart pounding, her face flushed. Her body arched under his touch, lost in him. 

He held nothing back this time. She reached back for the arm of the sofa, trying to anchor herself to something solid, but it was far too late. He moved his fingers just so, and suddenly, she was right there, shaking, gasping his name as she tightened around his fingers, her entire body shuddering through her release. She called out his name, and his free hand slipped into one of hers, entwining their fingers together.

The music had stopped at some point; she hadn't noticed.

He didn't pull away until her trembling ended, her heartbeat starting to slow. What could only be described as a satisfied smile was on his face as he straightened her leggings before crawling up the sofa to kiss her. 

When he pulled back to look at her, to smooth the hair off her face, she spoke. "I think," she said, still a bit breathless, "that I'm going to need to brush up on my music appreciation, Professor." He laughed, and kissed her again. 

Seeing Matthew like this –- easygoing, relaxed -– was a rare pleasure, and she was determined to enjoy every moment of it. Diana ran her hands down his back, reaching for him, wanting her turn to feel, to taste. Instead he took her hand, kissing her inner wrist with a slight shake of his head. "Later," he said, fastening a few of the lower buttons on her -– his –- shirt. "After you're properly sprawled across your bed, without all these bothersome clothes."

Her heart thumped at the low promise in his words, and he grinned as he kissed her. Matthew let his head drop against Diana's chest, and listened to her heartbeat, skin pressed against skin. 

~~~~~

An hour later, Matthew had his wish granted, and Diana had hers. She was tired now, languid, ready to sleep. She burrowed against his chest. 

"Do you know why the Presbyterian preacher wrote that hymn to Beethoven's melody?" he asked. 

She shook her head. "Not really, no. I know he wrote it while visiting Williams College." 

"Yes. He was inspired by the beauty of the Berkshires," Matthew said. "But that wasn't the only reason. He wrote it in 1907, during the long, miserable buildup to the first world war. He wanted, I think, to offer something else -- the solace of brotherhood, the beauty of nature, the love of God."

He shifted until they were lying side by side, their noses almost touching. "He knew he was living in troubled times, dark times. But they weren't the end times. He knew there was hope, the prospect of better days ahead."

He kissed her, softly, tenderly, before wrapping his arms around her once again and pulling her close against his chest. Diana thought about everything they were facing, the challenges and dangers ahead. But she'd understood Matthew's message, too. As she slipped into sleep, she let his fierce confidence in their love drop over her like a warm cloak.

**Author's Note:**

> I built a little extra time into the end of episode 8/book 1. Everyone deserves a little alone time, especially these two.


End file.
